


Let's Play a Game

by Shaymed



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: F/M, Light BDSM
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 05:59:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9706202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shaymed/pseuds/Shaymed
Summary: Alisbeth Redblade enlists a scouting party of paladins to search the woods after hearing the death knight Thassarian is nearby. Her heart rife with the loss of Koltira during the siege of Silvermoon, she seeks revenge on Thassarian. But there is something else in store for her.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever BDSM. Suggestions and critiques for future potential BDSM are very welcome.

Alisbeth eased through the bushes, green-glowing eyes peeled and head on a swivel. A human in gleaming armor stared across the road at her. Their eyes met, his shifted sideways and she cast her gaze up the path. At the crest of a hill stood two dark knights in black armor, their frosty eyes to the woods where the two paladins hid. Alisbeth ducked back into the darkness of the forest. The human hissed, but dared not shout for her.

Esmond Darby, a paladin sworn to King Varian, was a man she’d known so long that age had creased his skin at the corners of his eyes and his hair was turning more salt than pepper. Though they’d disagreed much in their youth, one argument ending with her sword being thrown at him, they’d found each other to be suitable partners in the past years, despite her peoples’ allegiance to the Horde.

Hiding herself inside a bush, Alisbeth tossed a rock, to distract one guard then dragged the other into the darkness where she ran him through with Koltira’s sword. When her eyes returned to the path, the other guard was gone. Esmond’s head popped out of the bushes, where he glared urgently at her. He motioned back toward their camp. Alisbeth sighed and shook her head. She pointed at him and motioned that he should return without her, but he shook his head. Both ducked below the leaves as an imposing figure stomped to the path, casting a shadow over the dying earth.

Thassarian.

Every night he haunted her dreams. Every night she watched his blade plunge into the heart of the elf she’d loved, and loved still after all these years. Koltira’s dying expression was seared into her mind. It was there when she blinked. It was there on the face of the dark knight she’d just killed. She was tortured every second of her miserable, mana addicted life. Even in death, Koltira had consumed her.

But now it was vengeance that spread through her mind, reaching its cold, ugly fingers into her heart as she stared at Thassarian’s cold eyes. Caution to the wind, Alisbeth burst from the bushes to charge the death knight.

“For Quel’Thalas!” she screamed.

He unsheathed his twin swords and crossed them over his chest, stopping Koltira’s blade from slashing into him. Alisbeth lifted the glimmering truesilver and slashed again. Thassarian’s eyes scanned the blade as he blocked her swing.

“I know this blade.”

“You killed the elf who wielded it, so I brought it here to kill you!”

Thassarian parried, a laugh echoing through his wide chest. “Silly elf, I defeated this sword once and I can do it again.”

Alisbeth’s eyes narrowed in the slit of her helmet. “This time _I’m_ wielding it.”

Darkness wrapped around her throat. She reached for her neck, pulling at the shadows which prevented her breath. “Sounds like the owner of that sword was weak,” a deep and chilling voice said behind her.

Thassarian smirked as the newcomer walked around Alisbeth. “He wasn’t weak,” the human death knight said. “In fact, I’ve never found another quite like him…brother.”

They gripped one another’s forearms, but Alisbeth wasn’t looking at that. Her eyes were glued to the sword at this death knight’s back. She would recognize the enchanted green blade anywhere, though the blue handle gave her pause. Her eyes followed the cascading waves of long, white hair up to the pointed tips of his ears. When he turned to face her, her breath stopped, even though she was no longer caught by the strangling shadows.

“Koltira?” she gasped.

“Do I know you, paladin?” He spat the word as though the Light was an affront to his very existence.

Alisbeth looked to Thassarian, her teeth gnashing together as the anger rose within her. For Koltira to be dead was one thing, but to have him raised as this abomination…? She took up her sword and charged at Thassarian, anger clouding her mind and making her sword work clumsy. The death knight parried then shoved the sole of his boot into Alisbeth’s chest. She flew backward and was caught by Koltira, who wrapped a hand around her throat and held her suspended in the air to look down on him. There was nothing in his eyes but a wicked gleam. The man she loved walked among the living as a shell filled with something vile.

“Hey!” Esmond’s voice growled across the distance. He threw his shield with all his strength; it bounced from Thassarian’s chest to the back of Koltira’s head and then back into Esmond’s hand. Dazed, Koltira dropped Alisbeth. “Run!” Esmond screamed at her.

Alisbeth found her feet and took off toward the tree line, heart pounding in her ears. She screamed, her step faltering as a dark purple tendril snaked through the air to snatch Esmond from where he stood and drag him to Thassarian. The paladin didn’t even set foot on ground again before he landed on one of the waiting swords. Blood dripped across Thassarian’s gauntlet and Esmond groaned his final breath.

Alisbeth turned to continue running, but another tendril reached out to pluck her off her feet. She was yanked to stand so close to Koltira she could feel his presence up her spine, but it was cold and terrifying. She turned to look at him. He was holding the redblade over his head, a grin spread across his lips. He brought the sword down in a hacking sweep to take her head. But when the enchanted metal found the exposed skin beneath her helmet, it exploded with angry light and knocked everyone but Alisbeth away. She gasped and stepped back. The redblade lay on the ground at her feet, Koltira several yards away, dazed by the enchantment. Alisbeth took up her father’s sword, the blue handle shifted back to red as she ran as fast as she could into the woods to find her steed.

The mare was enjoying grass deep in the trees, but she perked and readied to dash once Alisbeth neared. The elf leapt onto the horse, which took off before her rider could even grab the reigns. Pounding hooves shook the ground behind them. Alisbeth glanced back and cried out in frustration and fear as Koltira bore down on them, riding a steed of nightmare in crimson armor. A dark purple tendril shot from his palm, grabbed Alisbeth from her saddle, and yanked her to drop onto his steed. Her charger wheeled around, her hooves flailing in the air.

“No!” Alisbeth shouted. “Run, Lightning!” Lightning objected with a whinny, but spun and ran into the woods away from them.

Koltira held Alisbeth with an arm around her middle, keeping her in his lap as he galloped to a farmstead whose inhabitants must have left in a hurry. He tossed her to the ground and dropped down behind her as she skittered away on all fours. He grabbed her by the shoulders and threw her at the front door of the farm house, which splintered and shattered under the weight of her armor. Koltira followed, stooping to take the sword from her back. He watched as if hypnotized as the handle turned from crimson to blue again. He pinned her against the wall, a hand pressed to the armor over her chest and the redblade gleaming at her neck.

“Explain.”

The weight of it all crushed in on her as tears dripped from her eyes. “You’re damned.”

He pressed harder against her breastplate. “I mean my sword.”

“It’s not yours,” she said.

He narrowed his eyes at her. “The owner perished in Silvermoon. Byfrost is mine.”

Alisbeth shook her head. “The redblade chooses who may wield it, but is loyal to those with Redblade blood.”

Koltira pulled her away from the wall, then slammed her back into it. “The last of the Redblade line died in Silvermoon, with the rest of those caught in the Lich King’s path.”

“I dropped it,” she whispered. “When So’daras knocked me unconscious. He saved me…just like you asked him to.”

The muscles at Koltira’s jaw tensed in rapid spurts. When he spoke his voice hissed between his teeth as a growl. “The last…of the Redblade line…”

“Is me.” She reached up to unbuckle her helm. It dropped from her fingers with a hollow clang. “All these years I thought you were dead. But I never dreamed… I’m so sorry.”

Koltira’s features softened. He dropped Byfrost and used his free hand to stroke at her ebony hair. “Alisbeth?” He took her in, studying her like a piece of art he never wanted to forget. Then, just as suddenly as he’d become the man she loved, his features hardened. “Paladin.” The hand at her chest moved up to her neck and squeezed. He leaned in, a snarl resting on the tip of his tongue. “You, and all your kind, will die at the hands of the Lich King’s death knights.”

Alisbeth slapped at his forearm and pried at his fingers, her eyes lit with a desperate plea as her lips mouthed his name over and over. Koltira raised his fist and thrust it toward her face with devastating force. His gauntlet embedded into the wood of the wall just one inch from her head. His grip on her throat loosened and his features calmed. She wasn’t going to wait for him to lose control again, though. She pulled a fist of golden light from the heavens onto his head, knocking him unconscious.

Alisbeth pulled Koltira’s motionless body across the rough wooden floor. His armor was too heavy, so she removed it. Once he was in just his linen shirt and trousers, she dragged him into the next room and used ropes to lash his wrists to the bedposts. While she waited for him to wake up she removed her own armor and sat in a chair, staring at his blue skin and trying not to forget the soft pink of his living flesh.

Lines shimmered beneath his white shirt. Alisbeth took a dagger and cut the tunic from navel to neck and threw it open. Electric blue patterns adorned his chest, reaching over his shoulders where she could only assume they continued on his back.

Koltira’s eyes shot open. He growled and launched at her, angered by her close proximity. He fought against his bindings and screamed out. But she stood over him, just out of reach, and watched without a word and without fear.

“What did you do?” he demanded.

“Tied you up.”

“Damn you! I will kill all the Paladins of your order! I will rip them to shreds and feed their corpses to the ghouls!”

Alisbeth sighed, her breath stuttering as she tried to keep from crying. “Is that really what you want to do?” He gave no reply. “You’ll have to start with me.”

He panted and leaned back, casting his gaze to the ceiling. He shook his head from side to side. “I can’t.”

“You can’t what? Fulfill your master’s wishes? Or get out of those knots?—They really are fantastic knots, if I do say so myself.”

He continued to shake his head. “You died in Silvermoon.”

“No,” she said, “that was you who died. I watched all of it. I watched as he drove his sword into your chest and as it came out the other side!” Her gaze found the center of his chest where a long, angry scar marred the otherwise smooth skin. “You said your heart was mine, and he went and cut it right in half.”

She leaned closer to him. His biceps flexed, straining against the linen sleeves of his tunic. She reached out a hand, setting a fingertip on the scar. Koltira’s nose wrinkled with disgust as she traced the edges of the knotted flesh.

“I’m not sure if you truly hate me right now,” Alisbeth said, “or if somewhere in there you remember what we had. Tell me, what are you thinking?”

“I remember that I loved you.”

“And you don’t now.”

“It…comes and goes.”

Alisbeth’s heart beat faster to hear that somehow in his damned state, he still knew love for her. “And now?”

“I can’t decide. His will is strong and it is all I can do to fight it.” His fists clenched, his biceps flexed as he leaned toward her, his lips curled in a sneer.

“What are you doing? Trying to escape?”

“No. I’m trying to kill you.”

She stared at him, contemplating leaving and never looking back. “Would you like to be untied so you may do so?”

He shook his head as the ropes groaned around his wrists. “Don’t. I…don’t…want to.”

Alisbeth lowered herself into the chair to stare at him. She couldn’t be sure if it was some ploy to force her guard down so she would untie him, therefore allowing him to kill her; or if he truly was fighting some internal war between his own will and the will of the Lich King.

“Leave,” he whispered. “Leave me here and never come back.”

She set her fingers on her chin and chewed at her bottom lip as she thought. “I thought the Lich King’s sway was absolute.”

“I’m weak,” he hissed. His arms lurched forward, then were caught by the bindings. “I fail my master time and again by wavering in my servitude.”

Alisbeth crossed one leg over the other and tapped at the air with her toes. “Tell me about those…markings.”

Koltira glanced at his chest. “Runic binding. It makes his connection to me stronger.”

Alisbeth grinned as she realized the truth of him. She strode over to the bed and swung her leg over to straddle his stomach and smile at him. “You’re not weak, my love. You are strong to fight his will so thoroughly.”

Koltira ripped at the bindings, his eyebrows lowered in a glare but his eyes pleading with her. “Leave me here. I’m damned.”

She ran her fingers through his hair. “For better or worse, Koltira. Those were the vows we were supposed to make.”

“You’re forgetting ’til death do us part. Leave.”

She gave him a sly smile. “We never made the vows. I’ll stay.”

Frustration growled in his chest. “Ali…”

She returned to her seat and watched in silence as he wriggled and strained against the ropes at his wrists. He alternated between glaring at her and scrunching his eyes closed, frustration painting his lips into a grimace. Every so often he would have an outburst of anger so tangible it startled her as he spat threats of dismemberment and heinous tortures. It was a long time before he relaxed and closed his eyes, taking deep breaths to steady himself.

“I’m sorry. You have to know I don’t mean any of it.”

She rested her chin on her fist. “You don’t? Are you sure?”

“I don’t.”

Alisbeth stared at him for a long time, realizing the longer he sat in that bed across from her, the longer his lucid states lasted—where she was sure it was Koltira speaking and not the evil will of the Lich King within him. She said nothing of this to him, and continued her silent observance.

As the night drew on, Alisbeth found herself drifting in and out of sleep. At one instance she woke with a start, realizing it was the absolute silence that had roused her. Her eyes drifted to the figure on the bed as he lay motionless, his eyes closed and no breath moving his bare chest. Alisbeth lifted a thick candle from the stand by the bed, it had burned down to create a deep bowl of liquid wax. She leaned over Koltira, scanning for any signs of life. A droplet of wax sloshed out onto her finger, the heat caused her to jump and spill half of the remaining wax across Koltira’s stomach.

His eyes snapped open. “Ow.”

“You felt that?”

“Momentarily, yes.” He studied her in the candlelight. “Did you need something?”

“I thought you were—I didn’t mean to wake you—”

“I don’t sleep. I was just…thinking.”

She sat on the bed beside him, the chill of his skin settled against the small of her back. “What were you thinking about?”

“Dying.”

She swallowed. “I relive that moment every day… Do you remember your death?”

“I do.” He turned his gaze away from her as a frown settled on his lips. “But that’s not the death I was thinking about.”

“What do you mean?”

“I am a prisoner,” he whispered, as though the very walls could hear his confession. “A prisoner locked in a cage of my own corpse. But I am not the one in control, Alisbeth. I watch as I do things…terrible things… And there is nothing I can do to stop it.”

She set her hand on his chest. “Koltira, I—”

“Kill me,” he hissed. Alisbeth couldn’t answer. “If you ever loved me, you will kill me.” He sat up to look into her eyes. “Please.”

Alisbeth’s heart burned with sorrow. “I can’t,” she squeaked.

“Please. Free me from this tomb of flesh. I do not belong among the living.”

“No.”

His face twisted to the vile sneer and he spat on her. “Then I will kill you and everything you hold de—”

Alisbeth dragged another golden fist down onto his head, then threw herself onto his cold chest to sob. Maybe she should kill him, she thought. Maybe he was better off in the ground—where he should’ve been after he fell in Silvermoon. But Alisbeth’s heart refused to give up so easily. With what little she knew of death knights, she constructed a rough, if not stupid, plan. She untied the ropes from the head of the bed and positioned Koltira sideways. She lashed the ends of the ropes over the top of the four-poster, securing them to the thick wood so his arms stretched out like the wings of a bird in flight. Koltira jerked awake as she was tying the last knot.

“What is this?”

Alisbeth bit her lip, realizing how crazy her idea might sound out loud. “I wanted to try to free you.”

“Free me?”

“From the Lich King’s sway.”

He smirked, but it was a sadistic one. “How did you plan on doing that?”

“Reconditioning?” She bit at her lower lip.

“How?”

She rubbed her neck and rolled her eyes. “You know… I was… Uhm…”

“You have no idea what you’re doing.”

“I have no idea what I’m doing. No. Not a clue.”

Koltira studied her for a long time. She rubbed the nervous sweat from her palms onto her trousers and tried not to make eye contact. Koltira breathed in to speak. “We respond to pain.”

“Pain?”

He nodded. Alisbeth licked her lips as she thought. Her eyes found the candle from earlier and she glanced at him. Picking up the dagger, she cut the remaining shirt from his arms and tossed the cloth to the floor. Then she took the candle and leaned closer to him. He leaned back as best he could in his kneeling position.

“That only burns for a mo—” He grunted as she dripped a little wax on him at a time, waiting just long enough for him to recover before spilling some on another area. “Mmm.” His voice purred in his throat.

“Are—are you _enjoying_ this?”

He licked his lips and opened his eyes to the ceiling. “Maybe a little.”

Alisbeth clenched her jaw, a strange anger bubbled within her over the idea that he was enjoying what should have brought him pain. She wrapped her fingers into his hair, then made a tight fist and pulled back until his spine curled in a way that made her shudder.

“You said you _respond_ to pain. Not _enjoy_ it.”

Koltira smiled at her, his eyes opened as slits that begged her for more. “I suppose it’s just the person delivering the pain this time.”

She released him and stood, setting the candle back on the table. Koltira straightened and observed her, his teeth biting into his lower lip as he thought.

“Giving up so easily?” he asked.

“What’s the point?”

“Well, pleasure, for one.”

“I can’t give you your own will back!” she said, a tear rolling down her cheek.

“Then give me yours.” The smirk on his lips turned sadistic again.

She tossed her hands up in the air. “I don’t even know who I’m talking to right now! What if you snap out of this and aren’t okay with what I’m doing?”

“I want you to do this. Free me. Bend me to your will.”

Alisbeth thought. “If at any point you want me to stop…tell me the name of the flower you gave me as substitute for purple lotus.”

His smile was kind as his eyes caught hers. “I don’t think I’ll need it, but I remember.”

Alisbeth paced the room while she thought. Then she left him there and searched the rest of the farm. His steed was waiting in back, it nosed her shoulder when she emerged. It sent her stomach churning, but she patted the soft muzzle anyway. That’s when she noticed the riding crop hanging from the post of a horse run. She grabbed it and collected a few more items from the barn before returning to the bedroom, where Koltira waited in motionless patience.

Alisbeth dropped everything to the floor, then slapped the crop against her palm. “We’re going to play a game.”

“What kind of—”

She hit the crop across his cheek; her insides screamed to apologize. But when he sighed and gave her that lustful smile, she became emboldened, wanting to see that expression again.

“I didn’t say you could talk.”

He raised one eyebrow, but remained silent.

“You will call me ‘Master’.”

He laughed a short hiss. “Alisbeth, I—”

She struck the crop across his shoulder blades. He lurched forward, then stared wide-eyed at her. She took him by the hair again, pulling him back to look at her. “You will call me Master.”

“Yes,” he whispered, “Master.”

She released him. “Good.”

“Master, what sort of—”

She struck lower on his back. “You were not given permission to speak.”

“Ali—”

She struck him again. Alisbeth circled around the bed to look him in the eyes. “You don’t think I can do this.”

“No, I d—” The crop cracked against his chest.

“Want to know a little secret?”

He hesitated. “Y-Ye—” She hit him again.

Alisbeth leaned in close to whisper in his ear. “I’m enjoying this, too.” She didn’t want to tell him that it was her anger at what he was the shot a thrill through her every time she struck him. But the anger quieted when she would see his expression; a moment of pain followed by a silent request for more. And because she loved him, she decided to give him what he wanted.

“We’re going to play a game. A question game.” She paused, but he made no reply. “I will think up a question, to which you will answer yes or no. If I don’t like the answer, I will punish you. If the answer pleases me, then I will reward you. Do you understand?” He didn’t reply. “Answer me.” The crop sang through the air to strike across his back, he grunted and arced forward.

“Yes.”

She truck him lower. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, I under—” The crop bit into the cloth covering his buttocks and he gasped. “Again,” he whispered.

“No.” She pulled him back by the hair again. “Yes, what, Koltira?”

He pressed his nose into her neck. “Yes, Master.” He bit at the flesh of her collar.

Alisbeth gasped, forcing herself to ignore the shock of desire between her thighs. She shoved him away and struck him across the ass with the crop. “You were not given permission to do that.”

“Worth it.”

She hit him again. “You were not given permission to speak.”

He gave her a playful smirk and she had to bite her cheek to keep up her stern demeanor. She chewed on her lip and thought. Torturing him into submission was one thing, but whatever was happening now was strange and unheard of to her. She scratched her scalp and fluffed her hair.

Koltira smirked. “Losing your nerve?”

She batted at him with the crop, barely tapping his shoulder blade. “Shut up!”

He chuckled. “Make me.”

Alisbeth raised her eyebrows and turned to find him staring at her over his shoulder, giving her a devilish grin. She wanted to untie him and kiss away all the pain she’d inflicted, but paused remembering his fingers around her neck. He wasn’t the man she loved, not anymore. He wasn’t even a man.

That thought gave her an idea. She dug through her pile of farm equipment and found a horse bridle. She held it up to her own face, then shook her head and tossed it to the side. Next she found the pony bridle she’d grabbed in her haste. It was smaller than the horse’s, enough so that she could have fit it in her own mouth, had she wanted. But this was for him. She wrapped the metal bit in scraps from his tattered shirt, then held it in front of him.

“Open your mouth.”

He clenched his jaw. “Why?” he asked through gritted teeth.

“You said, and I quote, ‘make me.’ This is me making you shut your damn mouth.”

“That’s for horses,” he said.

Alisbeth pressed it closer to his lips; he eyed it and her in turn. “You’re right. It’s not for men. But you’re not a man, are you? You’re a beast occupying a corpse.” She forced the bit closer and he opened his mouth to let it in. She fought with the straps, adjusting them to fit around his head, then yanked it tight so his mouth was open in an angry grimace.

“Now, since you can’t answer yes or no, I want you to nod or shake your head. Do you understand?”

The ice of his eyes burned into her. Then he nodded.

“Question one: yes or no?”

One of his eyebrows raised. He scanned her posture and expression to find a hint at her meaning.

“Oh! You didn’t think I was telling you the questions, did you?”

His eyes widened.

She smiled. “Question one: yes or no?”

Koltira didn’t move. He didn’t breathe or blink. Alisbeth grabbed a leather lead from the pile and clipped it to the hoops at the corners of his jaw. She took the lashes in her fist and jerked downward. He growled.

“Yes or no!”

Koltira shook his head.

Alisbeth tutted and picked up the dagger from the table. “I don’t like that answer.” She slid the tip of the blade down the rippling muscles of his chest and rested it at the top of his trousers. His eyes widened. “You know, beasts don’t wear clothes.” She slid the dagger in by his hip and cut the fabric along his thigh, down to his ankle. She repeated the process with the other leg, then pulled the useless linen away.

She stared at him, remembering the first time they’d made love. How glorious it was to see his manhood so exposed and know that she’d caused it to swell with desire. Her curiosity ate at her, wondering if he could still react to her that way. But she would have to wait for that, at least until she knew he wasn’t going to strangle her and leave her corpse behind.

“Question two,” she forced her gaze away from his groin and back to the cold eyes lit with some humor at her distraction. “Yes or no?”

Koltira blinked as he thought. He started to turn his head, then changed his mind and nodded. Alisbeth smirked. He stared at her, not breathing as he watched her cross the room to retrieve the riding crop. In one swift movement she struck his buttocks. He groaned with the pain of it, then sighed.

She repeated the question over and over, asking real ones in her head. Most of the time they regarded his own will and allegiance to the Lich King—it was mere bad luck that he gave her answers that displeased her.

 _Do you swear loyalty to the Lich King?_ Yes. He was punished with the crop.

 _Would you leave the Scourge and join with me to fight for all of Azeroth?_ No. She drizzled some hot wax onto his shoulders.

 _Is your will your own?_ No. Crop.

 _Will you accept me as your master?_ No. A quick backward jerk of the bridle.

 _Do you submit to my will?_ Yes. Alisbeth readied the crop and Koltira flinched in anticipation. Then she paused, realizing his answer. She smiled.

“Good,” she purred. She removed her shirt, leaving her little red brassiere on, then joined him on the bed. She kneeled in front of him. His eyes were gentle and soft, closing as she set her palm to his cheek and ran her hand along his cold skin. Alisbeth pressed her chest to his, holding his head to her shoulder as she ran her fingers through his hair. His arms flexed against the ropes still binding him to the bed. He pressed his cheek into hers, then set his cold forehead against hers to look eye-to-eye.

Alisbeth’s tenderness lasted only a minute, but felt like a lifetime to both. She eased off the bed and stood to pace in front of him again.

“Next question.” She paused, noticing his long arousal. She licked her lips and turned away to take up the riding crop. At least that question was answered. Koltira shouted through the cloth in his mouth. When she turned back to him, he nodded. “Oh…I, uhm,” she swallowed and smiled, a bit flustered. “I forgot the question.”

Koltira leaned toward her, straining against the ropes. He tilted his head. She knew what he wanted.

“You don’t get to choose if you’re rewarded or punished!” She snapped the crop across his ass. He gave her such a sad look after that she sighed and set the crop on the bed. She pressed her lips to his forehead, they were warm against his skin; the chill crept toward her nose.

The questions continued. With each answer that displeased her she hit him, deciding to abandon the candle. When he grew uncertain of answering she would jerk on the bridle, pulling until he gave a response. He went so long without an acceptable answer that when he finally got one he sighed into her embrace. But Alisbeth was the one that wanted more. She reached her hand down; his hardening shaft responded to the warmth of her hand and he pressed his body closer to her.

“Yes or no,” she whispered in his ear.

He waited a long time, enjoying her hand around him. He buried his nose in her hair and took a deep breath, then nodded. Alisbeth smiled.

His eyes met hers. His jaw tensed as he readied for punishment. Instead she kissed down his chest, each little one a warm island on the ice of his skin. She went down, down, until she set the gentlest of kisses on the tip of his manhood. A shudder crept up his spine as she pressed the tip of her tongue to his base and traced it up along the bottom until she found the head again.

“Yes or no?” she purred.

He closed his eyes for a moment, then leaned his head back to look at the ceiling. He shook his head.

“I didn’t quite catch that.”

He cast his frosty gaze on her and shook his head. No. Alisbeth smiled coyly. He waited in motionless anticipation, his member throbbing and his hands clenched into fists. She set her flat tongue against the head, then lowered her lips down the top. His muscles tightened and he sucked in an instinctual breath of a gasp. She lowered her lips along his length until the tip touched the back of her throat, then she sucked as she pulled her head away. He moaned, his voice like gravel and velvet. The inside of her mouth was hot on his cold skin—not as hot as the burning wax, but enough to give him the rush from the heat.

She moved him in and out of her mouth, her lips tensing to make him gasp under the sensation. Just a little pressure at a time. Koltira’s hips found her rhythm and moved with her. Alisbeth gripped his thighs and pulled him deeper into her until her gag reflex couldn’t allow him any farther. He grunted and pulled away. His eyes caught hers as he made urgent noises and clenched his jaw around the bit. Alisbeth removed the bridle.

“Did you need to say something?”

He nodded, swallowing as he studied her. “Mageroyal.”

“O-oh,” she sputtered. “Strange time to—”

“Untie me.”

She studied his bound wrists, then looked to the runic tattoos on his chest.

Koltira nuzzled against her, lifting her face with his own so he could kiss her. He took her tongue into his mouth and sucked the warmth from it. “I won’t hurt you. I promise.”

Alisbeth took the dagger from the table and held it to his throat. “I’m keeping this.”

He nodded. “Fair enough.”

She reached up and cut the first rope. Koltira slipped his freed arm around her, pulling her into him so he could crush her lips in the most urgent of kisses. She cut his other arm free. He pulled her onto the bed, hooked his thumbs in the waistband of her trousers and yanked them down, her underwear with. She removed her brassiere and tossed it behind her. Koltira slid his palm to her breast and she shuddered under the chill of it, her nipple hardening at his touch. Next his hand traveled down her stomach, feeling the soft warm flesh, stopping to pull at her hip before going between her legs.

Alisbeth squeaked and pulled his hand away, her eyes wide. “You’re too cold.”

Thoughts whirred in his mind, then he took her by the wrist and guided her hand across her body, tracing the places he’d touched. Her skin responded by raising as goose flesh under her own touch. He guided her hand down between her thighs. She bit her bottom lip and blushed, embarrassment causing her to look away.

“Look at me,” Koltira whispered. He held her gaze as he pushed against her fingers, slipping them inside the pink flower.

Alisbeth breathed in, then let it out as a soft moan. He pulled her fingers out, wet with her desire, and traced them across each fold and up onto the little button at the top. His hand continued to guide her fingers as he lowered his head to set his cold lips on the pink tip of her breast.

Her breath came in sharp gasps as her most feminine part became slick with her desire. Koltira released her hand and rolled onto his back. In one fluid movement he lifted her by the waist and shoved her onto his firm erection. She screamed out as the cold member shocked her senses, her lower lips puckered around his base and he purred in approval. Alisbeth gasped in deep breaths to recover. Koltira watched her, waiting. Still gasping, she held the dagger to his throat. She lifted herself from him, teasing his head with her lips. Just as slow, she lowered herself to cocoon his manhood within her once more. He closed his eyes and panted, one hand balling to a fist.

“Am I losing you?” she asked.

He shook his head. “No. It’s…so hot.”

It hadn’t occurred to her that because of his lowered temperature her heat was more pronounced around him. His reaction to the hot wax of the candle made a strange sort of sense, then.

“Should I stop?” She asked, easing herself back up his shaft.

“No. Don’t. Please.”

She lowered herself again and gave him a coy smile. “So demanding. Don’t make me tie you up again.”

He held his wrists up to her. “Still am.” He sucked in a breath as she lifted then shoved herself back down, hard and fast.

Alisbeth took the ends of the ropes still tied around his wrists and knotted them together around one of the posts. “No touching,” she whispered.

“This isn’t a very g-ood knot,” he gasped as she lifted and thrusted again.

“It doesn’t have to be, you’re just not allowed to break it.” His eyes lit as he gathered her meaning. She thrust him into her again. “No matter what.”

His biceps tensed, his hands clenched into fists as he fought the urge to break the knot and pull her to him. She moved against him, slow and teasing. He pursed his lips to concentrate on not breaking the ropes. He growled in frustration.

Alisbeth teased under his chin with the tip of the dagger. “Who do you serve?”

“The L—”

She raised her eyebrows and stopped, her free hand stretching for the riding crop.

“You, Alisbeth,” Koltira gasped. “I serve you.”

She brought the crop down on his chest. “And don’t you forget it.”

Koltira looked over his head to make sure he hadn’t pulled the ropes apart, then met her gaze. “I won’t,” he whispered. “I promise.”

She rode him, faster and harder, her heat warming his member. A bead of sweat trickled down between her breasts and Koltira licked his lips, his eyes lit with hunger. But he dared not break the loose knot in the ropes and find some punishment waiting for him.

Caught between the concentration and her warm cocoon around him, Koltira suddenly found his ecstasy. It exploded inside her like a fountain. Koltira groaned and gripped the pole, his muscles tensing at his release.

Alisbeth bit her lip and watched him, listened to him. It sent a thrill through her core and shocked her own ecstasy through her body. She rode on the waves of pleasure, calling out to the ceiling, releasing scream after scream as her body tensed and pulsed around him. Then, unable to move another inch, she dropped sideways and rolled onto her back to stare at the ceiling.

Koltira waited as she caught her breath, then cleared his throat. “Can I break the knot now?”

She smiled. “No. No you can’t.”

He watched her smile, memorizing it in the candlelight. Already he could feel the grasp of the Scourge calling him back, though he didn’t want to return. “Just a little longer,” he whispered.

She pretended not to hear him, knowing what he meant. Alisbeth untied the ropes from the pole and his wrists and dropped them to the floor. He wrapped her in his embrace, his chest pressed against her back. Cold as he was, it soothed her hot, trembling skin. As quiet as she could, Alisbeth began to cry. He wasn’t dead, but he wasn’t alive, either. All the nights she’d dreamed to be back in his arms…but not like this. Never like this.

“Koltira,” she whispered, afraid that anything louder would give her away, “return to me.”

He leaned closer and ran a finger through the tears pooling at the corner of her eye. He wanted to promise, but he couldn’t be certain it was one he could ever keep. So instead he held her tight and kissed her shoulder. “My heart will always be yours. Both halves of it.”

Alisbeth swallowed and pulled his hand up to kiss the cool knuckles. She turned over to press her face into his chest, closed her eyes, and let the lateness of the night drag her into contented slumber.

When she woke in the morning, the bed beside her was empty. She turned over, heart already clenched in her throat, to confirm he was gone. A single Mageroyal lay on the other pillow. Nothing else. Not even a note. She took the flower and gripped the stem and cried into the downy pillow. The Lich King had won. It felt like she’d watched him die all over again. But this time, there was no getting him back.


End file.
